A Breath of Fresh Air
by Captain Tiny
Summary: Modern AU. Enjolras is a man made of marble, whose only love is his beautiful country and only interest is rallying the people under his flag in order to unseat the monarchy. So when Marius Pontmercy's shadow catches his eye, he finds himself way in over his head. Rated T for language and abuse.
1. Chapter 1

_Rebellion stirs underneath the surface of the seemingly quiet streets, like fire building in the belly of a dragon. There are starving people littered in every alley; skeletal rats scrounging for the smallest crumb whilst the rich pass by unseeing and uncaring. The king does nothing, and the seconds tick by as the people grow restless, waiting for a gust of wind to ignite the flames of revolution._

* * *

Enjolras raises his megaphone high as his speech comes to an end. The people gathered around him and Marius roar in approval and Marius allows himself a small smile.

"VIVE LA FRANCE!" Enjolras bellows. Marius and the crowd echo his sentiment and erupt into more cheers and applause.

Enjolras steps down from the edge of the statue and Marius follows. The people dissolve into noisy chatter, fired up by the words delivered by the two students.

"We did well today Enj," says Marius, grinning broadly and clapping Enjolras on the back.

"We did indeed." Enjolras returns the smile, although more subtly.

They start to hand out leaflets to the crowd detailing the next meeting and full of words of promise. Citizens of the city offer words of enthusiasm, encouragement and support, and Marius cannot help but feel relieved that the word is not only spreading, but sinking in. The crowds begin to disperse and the pair wander away.

They walk in comfortable silence for a time, until Enjolras remembers a face he saw in the crowd again.

"Your shadow was watching us again today," he says, smirking mischieviously as they enter a coffee shop.

"Eponine is not my shadow!" Marius protests, "she's my best friend. We grew up together. I keep telling you this."

"And yet you have still not introduced us to her!" Enjolras chuckles. "I am offended, Marius."

Marius smiles, but says nothing in response. He has not introduced her for good reason; she does not want to be introduced, content with her place at the back of the meetings. The men receive their coffee and Marius departs, leaving Enjolras to make his way home. Marius wanders through the bustling crowds, in no hurry to return home. He takes in the bright colours of the market stalls and shop fronts, but also the ragged forms of the homeless and starving, lying half dead, begging for change. The sight unnerves him and he quickens his pace somewhat. He leaves the busy city centre behind him and makes his way into the more tranquil parts of the city. As he finally reaches his house, a small figure clad in old jeans and an oversized jumper approaches him and he smiles warmly.

"Hello 'Ponine."

Her face splits into a broad grin. "Hi Marius! I thought you spoke very well today."

"Thanks 'Ponine. The people really seem to be rallying to the cause, finally."

"They do. Although I'm probably more biased than most, having sat in a lot of your meetings."

Marius laughs. "This is true. Are you coming tonight?"

He notices her breath catch in her throat as she replies. "Are you going?"

"I am indeed." When he smiles at her, he notices her tremble slightly.

"Then I shall be there."

The two stand in silence for a moment before Marius decides to invite her inside. Eponine beams, eyes shining, but before she can accept his offer a harsh voice sounds from behind them.

"Eponine! What are you doing?" Her expression falls and she wheels round to face her father glowering down at her.

"This is not where I told you to be. Have you even got what I asked for?" He speaks through gritted teeth, hardly containing his fury.

"I haven't, papa. I couldn't find him."

His eyes flash angrily and Marius feels very uncomfortable, letting his gaze drop to his shoes. Eponine however stares up at him defiantly.

"Unless you were planning to get money out of this idiot, then you are wasting my valuable time. And I've seen you loitering around here with him before, and coming home without a single coin in your pocket. So I know that's not what you're here for."

Eponine blushes scarlet and her head drops.

"Get home now, you insolent brat." He spits the words and drags her away, leaving Marius alone in the quiet street. The interaction is not uncommon. He pushes the uncomfortable feeling in his chest to the back of his mind and goes into his house.

* * *

Enjolras wanders back to his apartment, deep in the inner city, 8 floors up. He scowls to himself. Sometimes he wishes that he didn't live in such an expensive or well furnished flat. It made getting people to believe in what he was saying that much harder. They didn't want the bourgeois' pity. His brow is still furrowed when he unlocks his door and steps inside, and the frown deepens when he takes in the chaos that greets him. His once spotless home has been transformed into an almost unrecognisable mess of papers, maps, leaflets and empty coffee cups. Enjolras sighs as he flops into to the one empty space left on his sofa. He lifts a book from the shelf behind him, and loses himself in the musty pages. A few hours pass where he does not move, not even to satisfy the hunger clawing at his stomach. The words wash over him familiarly, and he is unaware that eventually he is mouthing along; anticipating the sentences before they come.

The noise of the buzzer makes him jump, almost losing grip on the book. He stands quickly, moving to the door. He answers the door and Gavroche is standing enthusiastically on his threshold, breathing heavily.

"What's the word Gav?" Enjolras doesn't bother with formalities, there is only one reason Gavroche would be here with such an excited look on his face: news.

"Lamarque is ill. He's been taken to hospital, but it means the people on the street are restless."

"Good work." He keeps his face solemn but his heart is pounding. If the people were already stirring, it could mean great things for his plan.

Gavroche beams at the praise. Enjolras pulls out his phone and writes out a quick text to Marius, Joly and Grantaire.

**News on Lamarque. Get here asap. E**

He invites Gavroche inside and the two of them hastily attempt to make some sense of the papers strewn across the floor and seats.

As Gavroche puts the kettle on and Enjolras clears space on the couch, there is a knock on the door. Gavroche opens it to the three men who come inside, chatting merrily. Enjolras offers them all a coffee and they take them graciously. He rolls his eyes as he sees Grantaire slip a dash of whiskey into the hot liquid and hurriedly stash the hip flask away. After a few moments of light chatter, the talk turns serious and their thoughts all focus on the potential consequences of Lamarque's deteriorating health.

"If Lamarque dies," Enjolras ignores the visible flinch from his colleagues at the idea, "it will be the perfect time to rebel. " Murmurs of agreement went round the table.

"Everyone will be worried about the possible actions taken by the government without him around to speak for them. They will want to help." Marius says.

Enjolras nods solemnly. "We should speak this evening at the meeting. Gav?" The young boy looks eagerly up at the older. "Think you can round up some new faces for us?"

Gavroche grins and agrees enthusiastically. Joly ruffles his hair affectionately.

After finishing their drinks and discussing potential sources of food and places to stage protests, the five stand and say their goodbyes, although briefly, as they would see each other in just short of an hour.

Enjolras is left alone again, and he begins prepare himself for the meeting. He eats some leftover pasta as there is no time to cook properly, and showers, allowing the heat to soothe him; his muscles relaxing under the steady stream of water. A book is pushed into his bag along with the usual papers, to read when _Les Amis_ are the only ones remaining and the talk changes from revolution to pretty women and complaints about the work load from their professors. He drinks another coffee before he leaves; it is set to be a long night.

* * *

As usual, Enjolras is the first to arrive in the small café. He takes his usual position in the circle of chairs around the table in the corner. It's never moved, as _Les Amis_ frequent the small establishment so often. He takes out his maps and places them flat on the table, and then buries himself in his book.

The others begin to arrive and he puts the book back in his bag as the men, Gavroche and some of his friends, and some unfamiliar faces filter into the small room. Marius is one of the last to arrive, followed silently by his shadow, who takes a place at a table buried in the corner. Enjolras wonders if he is the only one to notice her entrance.

The expectant faces look up at him, and Enjolras begins to speak. To start with, his words are met by blank stares, save for his fellow students, but as he continues, full of passion and fuelled by his love for France, the faces become more open; more agreeable, and eventually his words are accompanied by cheers and noises of approval. He ends with another cry of "VIVE LA FRANCE! " and the crowd begins to speak as Enjolras takes his seat, telling the people what they can do to help in between meetings. The congregation takes the information in like sponges, eager to assist in any way they can.

As they begin to dissipate, Enjolras searches for the shadow from his chair. He finds her in exactly the same position she had been at the start of the meeting: staring adoringly at Marius with hair falling down one side of her face and hands laying in her lap.

_Les Amis_ seat themselves around the big table, and Grantaire fills them in on the news from earlier. They discuss the growing rebellion for about half an hour before the debate begins to fall apart. Grantaire has become more and more drunk and now he laughs raucously, his jokes getting cruder by the second. Enjolras rolls his eyes and retrieves his book. Every so often he flicks his eyes up to steal a curious glance at the shadow. She sits frozen in position.

Around midnight, Marius stands up. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay guys. Who's got a lecture first thing tomorrow morning?" Several hands raise unenthusiastically and Marius laughs. "See you then."

Goodbyes are aimed in his direction as he shuffles past the chairs and wanders towards the exit. As he leaves, the shadow hurriedly stands and makes her way after him. No one but Enjolras notices her; they have already returned to their conversation. As she moves to the door, her hair shifts slightly. Enjolras barely contains his gasp when he sees her face. There is an angry red mark on her cheek, swollen horribly. It is beginning to bruise, and as she wraps her arms around herself, he notices similar marks covering them.

"Fuck," he whispers in an outward breath.

The sight shocks him. He does not know how he can have overlooked them before, glaringly obvious as they are.

"Enjolras?" Grantaire jolts him out of his reverie.

"Yes?" He asks, distractedly.

"Is the door really that interesting? You've been staring at it for nearly 10 minutes."

"I was just thinking. You might like to try it sometime, Grantaire." He replies curtly, returning to his book.

Grantaire shakes his head in frustration and leaves the solemn leader to his musings.

* * *

**A/N: So this is Chapter 1. I really would appreciate feedback/constructive criticism because I adore this pairing and I am determined to get it right. I hope you like it. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Éponine watches Marius and the rest of _Les Amis _from the back of the café. She listens to their conversation, tracking the changes from revolution, to how many women Combeferre has managed to sleep with in the last month. Over the past few months she has learnt a lot about the group of students; their ideas on how to change the country, and also the way they interact together. She has wished in the past that she could pluck up the courage to go and talk to them; their friendship is to be envied. However, tonight, her eyes are fixed on Marius, utterly mesmerised by each subtle movement of his body. She gazes in awed silence, as though she is in the presence of an angel. She is not aware of the hours ticking by as she sits like a statue, only of Marius's entrancing eyes, and his intoxicating laugh.

He stands to leave, saying his goodbyes to _Les Amis. _As he walks past her to get to the door, he smiles at her warmly. Éponine has to wait for him to shut the door behind him before she feels able to stand. As she begins to prepare for her own exit, she becomes acutely aware of one of the boys looking at her. From the corner of her eye, she can see it is Enjolras: the one with the golden curls, impeccably dressed in a red shirt and smart trousers, who speaks so passionately about change. Uneasy under his intense gaze, she wraps her arms around herself and departs the café.

As she rushes out into the cold street, she checks the time on her phone.

"_MERDE!_" She swears loudly. It is past midnight. She should have been home to open the bar by half past 10. Hastily replacing her phone in her pocket, she quickens her pace and wraps her arms around herself again, silently cursing leaving her jumper at home before the meeting. She does not run; her face smarts from her father's anger earlier in the day, and she knows a similar fate awaits her for being so tardy now. Running will only waste her strength. Her thoughts stray back to Marius as she hurries through the dirty backstreets, and she subconsciously touches the swollen skin under her eye. She knows that were it not for Marius, the mark would not be there. She knows if it were not for Marius, then she would not be anticipating the same the second she walks through the door. But, as hard as she tries to be angry with him, she finds it impossible. He has shown her nothing but kindness and compassion as long as they have known each other.

Éponine cringes as she thinks of Azelma, who would be having to deal with the sleazy patrons of her parents' bar alone. Her sister is only 16, and if the men at the bar got too hands-on, Azelma was not strong enough to fend them off herself.

Eventually, she turns onto a grimy side street and comes face to face with the squalid bar that she calls home. Letting out a small sigh, she pushes the door and steps inside. The first thing to greet her is her father's angry backhand. Everyone in the bar is too drunk to notice the act of violence, and Éponine holds in her cry of pain.

"You're late."

"I am aware of that."

He hits her again. "Shut up. Get behind the bar now."

She slides in next to Azelma, who throws her a reproachful glance, but as she sees the swelling on her sister's face, her gaze softens slightly, and they fall into the usual pattern of serving drinks to men who were already too drunk to form coherent sentences. Éponine notices a fresh mark on Azelma's stomach as she reaches for a spirit bottle, and briefly squeezes her hand. Azelma returns the gesture and the two girls share a comforting look.

Éponine has to wrench her hand out of the grips of several lecherous old men as she passes them their drinks. She throws them glares of disgust before she goes back to her work.

She decides to go and collect the empty glasses from around the room. As she goes to move away from one table, and young man grabs her wrist.

"Let me go please." She says curtly, trying to pull away.

"Not so fast, _ma petite cerise_."

Éponine blanches at the nickname. "I'm trying to work." She replies bluntly. A string of much coarser words runs through her head, but she keeps them to herself; painfully aware that she has been beaten before for swearing at the customers.

"I know. I'm simply offering you an alternative to the bar." His lips curl into a suggestive smirk, then he breaks his gaze and calls out. "Thenardier! How much?"

Éponine's stomach drops. She can't do this, not tonight.

Her father appears from the back room. A similar leer is plastered to his face. "250 francs for an hour."

"My my, _cerise_, I hope I get my money's worth."

Éponine tightens her jaw and steels herself; preparing for the inevitable. She throws her walls up; shuts away her emotions.

Her father leads the two of them to an empty room above the bar: a room that Éponine has seen the inside of far too many times. He shoots Éponine a warning glare before he shuts the door behind him.

Éponine's attention snaps back to the intoxicated man that is meandering across the room towards her. He stops, inches from her face, and she has to force herself to refrain from recoiling away from the stench of alcohol that rolls off of his breath. He places his lips on the hollow behind Éponine's ear, and she cringes inwardly at the touch. He straightens up, and pulls his shirt off over his head. Éponine stands frozen to the spot. He picks her up and throws her on to the bed, crouching over her like a predatory animal. She closes her eyes and the man brings his face down to her own. His lips are rough and his hands are unforgiving, but Éponine is lost in a fantasy of her own, where Marius is the one with his fingers running through hair, Marius is the one with his lips pressed to her collar bone, and she smiles at the vision. She pretends each roll of her hips is for Marius; each faked cry of pleasure, is a genuine noise that Marius brings to her lips. The delusion is not new, she fills her head with thoughts of Marius's gentle touch every time her father sells her off like a piece of meat. It helps her cope.

Reality crashes back down on her, however, when the man clambers off of her, dresses, drops the money on the bed beside her, and leaves without another word, all within 60 seconds.

Even though she expects nothing else, a single tear rolls down Éponine's face and she wipes it away angrily before freshening up and getting dressed herself. She snatches the money from the bed, pocketing 50 for herself. She heads back down the stairs to the bar and thrusts the money into her father's hands.

"Make an honest woman of you did he?" He jeers.

Éponine ignores him, and resumes serving next to her sister. She feels a small hand brush affectionately against hers and she looks up into Azelma's soft face. She returns an encouraging smile that does not quite reach her eyes. Éponine turns away before she cries. She hates crying, and she certainly wouldn't give her father, or the nameless man - who is watching her from across the bar - the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

Her night becomes easier as the men get drunker, and finally, at half past 3, Azelma rings the bell for last call. Éponine breathes a sigh of relief. Friday nights are the most taxing, and now she is completely exhausted. After the bar empties, and the last drunken lout has been thrown out the door, her and Azelma traipse upstairs to their small bedroom, and collapse on their respective beds. Azelma reaches out and takes Éponine's hand in the dark. Éponine hears her sister's breathing slow to a steady pace, and follows not far behind her.

* * *

Enjolras looks up from his book as the boys laugh rowdily at one of Courfeyrac's jokes. He rolls his eyes yet again, and checks his watch. It's just past 2 in the morning. He deems it late enough that if he chooses to make his way home, there will be minimal complaints from his companions. He shuts his book and announces his decision to leave. Courfeyrac stands up to leave with him, much to the disappointment of the rest of the group. The two men nod to the barrister on their way out. Enjolras does not know why she allows them to outstay their welcome in the café so frequently, but he is grateful nonetheless. The pair make their departure into the cold air outside. Enjolras notes how the streetlamps bleach everything into various shades of grey. The moment the thought passes through his head, he scoffs at himself.

"What was that for?" Courfeyrac was curious.

Enjolras relates his observation with a pained look on his face, which only deepens when Courfeyrac laughs openly.

"You have been spending way too much time around Jehan."

Enjolras agrees, and a comfortable silence settles between them.

"Did you see Marius's shadow tonight?" Enjolras asks finally, trying to keep any implication of any sort out of his voice. Thankfully Courfeyrac notices nothing, and answers unsuspiciously.

"I think I saw her. She was definitely there during your speech. I'm not sure when she left though."

Enjolras furrows his brow slightly. "Me neither." The lie is smooth; he is so often buried in his latest book that the boys do not expect him to notice anything occurring around them in the café.

The two men say their goodbyes outside Courfeyrac's building, and Enjolras continues the journey home, thoughts still on the shadow. He is unsure as to why she keeps drifting back into his musings, but the frequency of her appearances is something completely new to him. As he lets himself in, he wracks his brain, trying to remember what Marius called her.

_Epaulette? Etienne? Eloise? Jesus Enjolras, you've been thinking about her non-stop for the past hour and a half and you can't even remember her name. _

He shakes his head in frustration and throws his jacket onto the sofa.

The noise of distant sirens wails quietly outside the window, and Enjolras takes a moment to take in the view of the city. The lights and beauty of the streets at night fills Enjolras with pride. If ever he doubted what he was fighting for, the view from his apartment reminds him. France was beautiful, and he strives for the day when it becomes free as well. Comforted by the thought, he pulls a text book from his shelf and climbs into bed.

It takes a full 15 minutes before Enjolras realises he has not taken in a single word of the page in front of him. He closes the book, frustrated. Clearly, he isn't going to get any last minute studying done tonight.

He sets the book aside and closes his eyes, but his mind is buzzing. Lamarque ill, people talking on the streets in hushed tones about what will become of them if he dies, how much closer the revolution feels now that his life is in the balance. And of course, the shadow. He is still very much perturbed by the bruises peppered over her skin. It worries him that Marius has not said or done something, because it means either Marius had not noticed or he simply did not care. Both options are equally repulsive to Enjolras. Although he does not know the girl, her condition troubles him deeply. He thinks her a fool to be so blatantly in love with someone who does not return her affections and seems to be almost oblivious to her existence. The thought irritates him the more he allows it to circulate around his head. How could she be so unfathomably naive? Why does she insist on following him around like a lost puppy? What possesses her to be so desperate? Enjolras lets out a frustrated groan. Why on earth does he suddenly care so much? It takes him another half an hour of tossing and turning to work it out.

_She's a perfect example_ _of the type of people you're fighting for._ _It's not her you are concerned for per se, it's the condition she represents. _

Satisfied with the conclusion he has drawn, he buries his head in his pillow and waits for sleep to wash over him.

* * *

**A/N: Chapter 2! I actually updated in an acceptable space of time! Again, please read and review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. :)  
To those that have been asking, I am very definitely going to be introducing Cosette, either in Chapter 3 or 4.  
Enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3

Éponine is woken by a sliver of bright sunlight pouring through a gap in the curtains. She checks the time on her phone and groans, rolling over and throwing her pillow over her head. It is not even 7 in the morning. Saturday is her day off from anything to do with her parents, and she is determined to have a lie in. Finally, she manages to doze back off. Dreams of the life she could have without the stigma of her parents following her everywhere fill her head. She dreams of 3 full meals a day, of fine wine, of a University education, and of course, coming home to Marius every night. Eventually, she rouses at half past 11, dragged back to the harsh truth of her mattress on the floor and damp riddled walls. She looks over at Azelma's bed; her younger sister is still sound asleep, the corners of her mouth curling into a soft smile.

Éponine creeps from the room to shower. The steams run over her skin, and she relishes the rare luxury of hot water. By the time she returns, Azelma is just waking up.

Éponine pulls an old t shirt over her head, and takes a pair of jeans out of her shared wardrobe that are almost identical to the pair she was wearing the day before. A pair of converses with holes in the sides are shoved on to her feet, but she doesn't bother to tie the laces, and settles for shoving them down the back of the shoes. She takes a quick glance at herself in the cracked mirror and decides the swelling on her face has gone down enough to warrant putting her hair up. She wishes she could afford some foundation to cover up the mark completely, and she is tempted to use the money from last night to buy some. However she knows that she's going to need to get food for her and Azelma soon, and so she just pulls the wet curls into a tight braid and grabs a tatty cardigan, slipping it on whilst saying goodbye to Azelma.

Her parents are both still in bed, and consequently the bar is totally silent as she pushes the door open and steps onto the road. This area of Paris is quiet, but closer to the city centre, the crowds become thicker and as she passes the first market stalls, the streets are bustling.

She waits for Marius in their usual place; the corner by the clock tower, and she notices him moving towards her through the busy shoppers. She breaks into a wide smile, stomach doing somersaults and heart beating double time.

"Marius!" She runs to him and envelops him in a tight hug, blushing furiously when he returns the embrace.

"Hello 'Ponine. How are you?"

Éponine falters just for a second. It is enough that Marius notices. He pulls back from the hug and looks her in the eye, grasping her shoulders.

"Alright, spill it. What's up?"

She cannot hold back when Marius looks at her like that.

"Dad hit me again when I got back last night."

His eyes soften and he draws her back into a gentle hug. Éponine swears her heart stops beating for a fraction of a second. When he pulls away for the second time, he brushes his fingers lightly over the fading mark under her eye.

"It looks okay this morning, Nina. I doubt anyone will say anything."

Éponine almost faints under his touch, and just about manages to smile back at him.

"Thanks Marius."

Marius straightens up. "Want to take a wander round the market?"

She nods enthusiastically and walks by his side around the stalls. They meander together, looking at what the vendors have to offer. He occasionally stops to inspect something, only to look at Éponine and mock it, making a ridiculous faces. She laughs openly at his antics, relaxed and comfortable in his company.

They stop to grab a takeaway coffee, and Éponine decides she will tell him about the other incident from the night before.

"Hey, Marius?" She asks tentatively as they make their way to the door.

"Yes?"

"Something else happened night. I'd quite like to talk about it." Her voice is quiet.

"Sure thing 'Ponine."

She pushes on the handle and steps back out into the busy square, Marius following. She stares at her feet as she paces, hesitant. "Well, at about half past 1, I was getting empty glasses from all the tables, and a drunk idiot grabbed my wrist. I told him to let go, but he wouldn't. And then my dad-"

Éponine suddenly realises Marius is no longer beside her. Wheeling round, she spots him a few feet back, staring at the other side of the square as though he he has seen a ghost. She turns to see what he's looking at, and finds her eyes falling on a tall blonde girl, staring as dreamily back. She is wearing a flowing sundress, large brimmed hat perched on her head. Éponine scoffs and waves her hand in Marius's face.

"Marius! Come back to the real world please! It's rude to gawp!"

The words that fall from his lips make Éponine want to vomit, overturn the nearest stall, and cry, all simultaneously.

"I'm in love."

A small noise of disbelief escapes Éponine's mouth. "What?!"

"'Ponine, I'm in love. She's perfect. I have to go and find out who she is."

"Marius! Hold up! You don't even know her name!"

But Marius is already striding purposefully through the middle of the square, directly at the blonde girl, leaving Éponine reaching out for a non existent hand with her world falling out from underneath her.

She follows to where he is standing, with his shoulders sagging, looking like he has lost all purpose in life. Apparently the object of his affection has already disappeared.

"She's gone." His voice is despondent, but Éponine just feels sick. She can't quite comprehend the last 5 minutes, and she's not sure if she wants to.  
"What was the thing you wanted to talk to me about 'Ponine?"

Éponine's head snaps up, and she opens her mouth to speak, but promptly closes it; Marius is craning his neck, looking around to try and catch another glimpse of the girl.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"You sure?" He sounds far away, still not looking at her.

"Yeah." Éponine can feel her heart sinking, and tears burning in her eyes.

"Okay, well I'm meant to be meeting up with the boys for lunch, but I'm gonna ask around and see if anyone knows who she is. I'll see you at the rally tomorrow, yeah?"

She doesn't respond, and continues to stare at the floor, but she knows he's gone. She stays frozen to the spot and counts to 10, breathing slowly. Then she raises her head and walks very quickly in the direction of Musain. Éponine knows there's a bar there and all she feels like doing is drowning her sorrows with Jack Daniels in familiar surroundings.

Unshed tears blur her vision as she weaves in and out of the crowds. She had desperately tried to confide in Marius, but some stupid blonde bitch had to go and steal his attention as she stood there. She lets out an anguished shout as she strides, not caring about the attention she draws from passers by. The anger starts to boil up inside her; at the girl for taking Marius away, at Marius for not listening, and at herself for being so cut up about losing someone that was never hers. She feels disorientated and dizzy, and all she wants to do is forget the whole damn morning and drink herself into a stupor.

_With the little that you've eaten over the past few days, _she muses, _that shouldn't be too difficult._

* * *

Enjolras looks around, prompted by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Grantaire, in time to seethe shadow sidle in, head bowed. He exchanges looks with the rest of the boys, which confirms his suspicions that her appearance comes as a complete surprise to the rest of them as well.

They had all assumed that because Marius had not turned up, the shadow would also be absent. Yet here she was.

To perplex them further, she walks straight past the table she usually occupies, and slumps down at the bar, seemingly unaware that the only other customers of the café have fallen silent and were watching her every move. She orders a double shot of whiskey and throws it back in one, slamming the glass back down on the surface.

Enjolras notices tears sliding down her face, and glances around; the expressions plastered over everyone's faces mean that they've registered them as well.

They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, the shadow still unaware of the eyes of the boys on her. She sits, gazing at the wall, and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, breathing heavily; forcing herself to calm down.

Once she seems to have a control of herself, Grantaire plucks up the courage to approach her.

"Hey, you're Marius's friend, right?"

She jumps, finally noticing the group.

"Yeah," she says, quietly.

Grantaire thrusts out his hand. "I'm Grantaire."

She takes it warily, looking suspicious. "I'm Éponine."

"Want to join us? We've got a seat free with Marius not here."

A fresh tear rolls from her eye. "Fuck Marius." She retorts, turning back to her empty glass.

"Woah, woah, woah! What's Marius ever done to you?" asks Grantaire, shocked.

Éponine looks at him skeptically. "I know you're a drunk but I never took you for an idiot."

The boys erupt into loud laughter, and Grantaire goes red. Even Enjolras chuckles quietly at the quip.

"Come on boys. You're not stupid. You must know how I feel." Her voice cracks slightly and she turns away again. She orders another shot and necks it wordlessly.

Enjolras notices that the swelling under her eye has gone down, and that she's plaited her hair. He watches Grantaire and Combeferre comfort her and stays seated, unsure what to do.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Courfeyrac asks.

She launches into an explanation without seeming to draw breath. "We were just walking around the market together and suddenly he's making eyes at this blonde girl across the square, declares he's in love and stalks off to find her. I just feel like such an idiot, you know? He's been there for me since we were kids and I couldn't help falling for him in the way that I have, but now it's even worse because he's infatuated with some princess with perfect hair and pretty clothes. And I'm just me. With my tatty jeans and old jumpers. But I still love him, even though I know it's stupid."

Her eyes widen in panic. "Wow. That was weird. I don't know why I said all of that. Now this is awkward."

Enjolras rolls his eyes inwardly. He doesn't understand why someone would willingly allow themselves to feel like that. He is tactful enough to know not to voice this opinion, but has no idea how to act instead. Luckily, Grantaire takes the situation into his own hands.

He pulls Éponine over to the circle, sitting her down and chatting amiably, evidently trying to take her mind off Marius.

"Well let's talk about something else. Allow me to introduce _Les Amis. _There's Combeferre, Courfeyrac, who thinks he's funny but he's actually not, Joly, the resident hypochondriac, Jean, who still insists on picking up girls using 1800s style love poetry, myself, the loveable drunkard, and of course, the marble man himself, Enjolras. Feuilly, Bahorel and Lesgle are otherwise occupied, but I'm sure you'll get to meet them at some point."

Enjolras rolls his eyes at the term bestowed upon him. Courfeyrac loudly objects to his description.

"Don't listen to Grantaire, Éponine. I'm actually hilarious."

Éponine looks very suspicious as she surveys them all.

"Did Monty pay you to pretend to like me?"

"Who's Monty, Éponine?" asks Combeferre, curiously.

The confusion on their faces makes her giggle, but her smile falters slightly. "He's just some guy I know." Her subsequent silence ends the discussion, and Enjolras raises his eyebrows. Courfeyrac answers her question, to interrupt the quiet.

"No one's paid us Éponine. We promise we're not totally insane. Come on, we've been wanting to force you to introduce yourself to us for months now."

"You what?"

Courfeyrac blanches. " Not in a weird creepy way!" He insists, and Enjolras has to suppress a small smirk at how easily Éponine has managed to fluster him.

He is also surprised that he seems to be the only one to notice that she's baiting him deliberately for a response.

"We just wanted to know a bit more about the girl that sits in on almost every meeting, and leaves without saying a word."

Courfeyrac nods fervently. "Yeah, that. I'm sorry, 'Ferre is much better with words than me."

Éponine giggles again and Courfeyrac relaxes noticeably.

"So, Ep, tell us a bit about yourself." Courfeyrac's eyes widen. "Wait. We can call you Ep, right?"

She shrugs. " Sure, why not?"

Enjolras watches as she smirks and her eyes light up mischievously.

"After all, it's better than 'the shadow', isn't it?"

"Oh god!" Courfeyrac goes scarlet and drops his head into his hands.

Enjolras raises his eyebrows. He is mildly impressed that she knows that. He is also impressed with her quick wit and blunt attitude.

" I'm only teasing, chill out." Her voice is filled with her grin, and Enjolras notes that the smile reaches her eyes, if only for a moment.

"There's not much to me to be honest. I'm just Éponine. I work in my parents bar, I never got to go to college and I like whiskey and the occasional cigarette. That's about it, really."

Grantaire speaks up. "There's got to be a little bit more to you than that. What's your favourite colour?"

"Red." She states, without hesitation.

A collective "_oooooooh_" rises from the group and Éponine looks curious, and Courfeyrac answers.

"Watch out Ep, Enj will be using you to front his protests if you're not careful." His statement only causes her confusion to deepen, and Enjolras to raise one skeptical eyebrow.

"Red is the colour Enj uses to personify _Patria. _It's the colour of his revolution. It's about the only thing that ever grabs his attention." Grantaire winks at Éponine then grins mischieviously at Enjolras, who glares straight back.

"I honestly don't know why I'm friends with any of you."

"Because they pretend to listen to your patriotic ramblings?"

For the second time that evening, Éponine's comment sends the boys into fits of laughter. Enjolras however, tightens his jaw and returns to his reading. He does not appreciate his beliefs in the future being trivialised, nor does he enjoy being laughed at.

He hears Joly say "Don't mind him, he's just a bit uptight sometimes. He means well though."

The chat continues for another half an hour, and Éponine settles comfortably into conversation. Enjolras eventually gives up on revision and listens to the others. Éponine looks at her watch and sighs, a little disappointed.

"I'd better head off. The bar opens at 6 tonight and I've got stuff to do in town before I get back. It's been really nice talking to you guys."

"Really? That sucks. Will we see you at the rally tomorrow?"

Éponine breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah. I'll be there." She leaves some money on the bar and thanks the girl behind the bar.

As she reaches the door, she hesitates for a second and turns back, looking straight at Enjolras, her eyes sincere, but soft.

"You should loosen up a little bit. We might joke about it, but you're fighting for a good cause, and the people believe in you."

The ghost of a smile plays over Enjolras's lips as she leaves.

* * *

**A/N: HEY LOOK THERE'S ACTUALLY SOME E/É interation in an E/É fic! And along comes Cosette, all but briefly.**

**Yes, I am aware that my timing means some of the boys have lectures on a Saturday, but since French Schools have lessons on Saturday morning, I've decided to use a little dramatic licence. :p **

**Again, concrit is seriously appreciated, please review with thoughts and ideas! Enjoy!** **:)**


	4. Chapter 4

Éponine wakes up early on Sunday. She rolls onto her back but stays wrapped under the covers, unwilling to venture from the warmth they provide. She smiles, content, until the events of the day before come crashing back into her memory and the happiness slides from her face.

Thoughts of Marius and the blonde girl knock all her breath from her; remembering the 5 minutes in the square that seemed to drag on for hours leaves a physical ache in her chest. Here, safe in her bed, she finally gives in and cries. Silent tears run down her face and this morning she lets them flow unchecked, unlike yesterday in the Musain.

Éponine cringes when she remembers the events that took place in the café. She cannot believe she simply opened her mouth and let everything spill forth.

_You idiot! What on earth were you thinking?_ _You don't even know them and you're telling your secrets to them! _

She covers her face in embarrassment, even though there is no one around to see. She'd like to believe it was the 3 shots she'd downed in as many minutes beforehand, but she knows she can hold her alcohol better than that.

_What's the matter with you? _

Éponine is appalled at herself. She cannot quite comprehend why she decided to blurt out her biggest secret - albeit a badly concealed one - to a group of students she has only ever observed from a distance.

She tries to untangle the chaos of emotions roiling around in her head, desperate to understand why she had told the boys why she was upset. Maybe it was Grantaire's worried expression as he put his arm around her, or Courfeyrac's gentle tone when he asked her if she wanted to talk about it.

One comment from the conversation sticks in her head.

_"Will we see you at the rally tomorrow?"_

She mulls it over, wondering why this particular sentence is nagging at her. A thought occurs to her.

_Maybe they actually care. Maybe they genuinely want you there. _

The observation unnerves her. So she thinks on it some more, trying to find anything from her interaction with them that could prove her wrong. When she fails, it only unsettles her more. They were sincere and friendly, nothing at all like the people she is used to in and around the bar.

"Éponine! For God's sake!"

She jumps at the sound of her name, and turns her head to see Azelma looking at her.

"Finally! You really shouldn't think so hard, 'Ponine. I can actually smell your brain frying."

Éponine raises her eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that 'Ponine. What's up? You look worried."

Éponine thinks for a second, then decides to tell her sister. "Last night, I didn't finish telling you what happened, 'Zelma."

"Okay, so what happened after Pontdouchey wandered off after the bimbo?"

Éponine chuckles. Azelma always manages to make her laugh.

"I went to the Musain, and the rest of the boys were there."

"And...?" Azelma looks at her questioningly.

"I downed 3 shots of whiskey, then one of them came up and introduced himself."

"And?!"

Éponine covers her face and peeks out from behind her fingers.

"And they asked me what was wrong, so I told them."

"What?!" Azelma looks incredulous. "Straight up? Did they drug you? Were you high? Éponine we need that money for food, really!"

Éponine shoots her sister a glare, and Azelma giggles in return.

"That's exactly my point!" Éponine cries frustratedly. "I have no idea why I told them! I never open up to people like that 'Zelma, it just doesn't happen! But they looked genuinely concerned and I don't know, it just kind of slipped out."

"What happened next?"

"I panicked so they took my mind off it. The guy, Grantaire, introduced me to the whole group and we all chatted for half an hour. When I left they seemed genuinely upset and asked if I'd be at the rally today. I told them I would be, but I don't know what to do! Part of me wants to avoid them and never speak to them again because they already know too much about me as it is, but I really enjoyed their company!"

Azelma sits and looks at Éponine thoughtfully for a while, as silence fills the space surrounding them.

Eventually, she speaks quietly. "I think you should go."

Éponine is taken aback by her sister's reply. "What? Really?"

Azelma nods slowly. "Yes. Don't get me wrong, I'm as astounded as you are that you opened up so fast, but I think you could use some people like that. I think you deserve more than the people our parents' reputation can give you. From what you've before about the meetings, they seem like really nice guys. I say go for it."

Éponine gapes at her sister, at a loss for words.

"Wow, 'Zelma, that's deep."

Azelma rolls her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

Éponine bites her lip, hesitating. "You really think I should go?"

"Yes! Go and make some friends! After all, when the rebellion finally comes, it might pay off to be in with the leaders of the resistance." Azelma winks, eyes glinting.

"Okay." Éponine pauses. "Thank you, Azelma. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Eugh, stop it, you'll make me puke." Azelma pretends to gag, but grins broadly at Éponine. "Now go! Or you'll be late!"

Éponine plaits her hair and gives Azelma a brief hug before rushing to the front door.

"Éponine?" Azelma calls from the top of the stairs and Éponine turns to face her.

"Try not to be so blabber mouthed this morning. I don't want to have to make a habit of giving you pep talks."

Éponine smiles and hurries out on to the street, walking quickly towards the square, feeling much more light hearted than when she first awoke.

* * *

The crowds are thick and rowdy as Éponine is jostled around, trying to catch a glimpse of the boys. She can hear Enjolras amid the cheers and on occasion Combeferre's voice reaches her ears, but she's too far back to see any of them. She pushes her way through the sea of bodies, making good use of her sharp elbows and rough mouth.

Eventually she breaks through to the front, and Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac come into view, standing on a small makeshift stage constructed out of wooden crates. Courfeyrac catches her eye and nods subtly, acknowledging her appearance, but turns back to the masses and continues to speak. She listens to the three students, delivering their beliefs with such truth and sincerity, she finds herself cheering along with the rest of the rabble at their declarations of freedom. Enjolras ends the speech with another rousing shout of "VIVE LA FRANCE!" and she repeats the sentiment, thrusting her fist into the air. Applause and the bubble of chatter follow, and the crowds disperse, leaving only _Les Amis_ and Éponine behind.

"Ep! You came!" Grantaire beams at her, pulling her over to the circle. They mill around, chatting enthusiastically about the rally and deducing how well they thought it went. Éponine notices Enjolras breathing heavily, eyes alight with excitement, unable to hide his grin.

She smiles quietly to herself.

_He really does believe in this. _She thinks. _He really does think change can come. _

"What did you think Ep?"

The question comes from Joly, and Éponine turns her attention to him.

"I thought it was fantastic. The crowds seem to be getting bigger, but also the interest in what you have to say is much more tangible. They're listening more intently, and really starting to take it seriously. When you actually start staging protests, they're going to be big."

Her words sink in for a few seconds before the boys congratulate each other happily, and thank her for encouragement.

She smiles nonchalantly, when the smack of fast paced boots against tarmac cause her to turn around.

Marius is sprinting towards the group, flushed and breathless.

"Sorry... late... overslept..." He manages to choke out between breaths.

"So nice of you to finally show up Marius." Grantaire's voice is dripping with sarcasm but he smiles broadly.

"How kind of you to grace us with your presence." Courfeyrac continues.

"Indeed it is an honour to see you!" Combeferre takes a ridiculously low bow and the boys laugh.

Marius finally regains his breath and stands upright. His eyes fall on Éponine and he looks at her confused.

"Ep, what are you doing here?"

"Listening to the rally?" She replies, questioningly.

"Yes but-" He catches himself before he goes any further but the words hang in the air unsaid all the same.

_But I wasn't here._

Combeferre speaks up before an awkward silence settles on the group.

"Éponine is part of the gang now. She introduced herself yesterday at lunch and we decided we liked her after she called Grantaire an idiot."

Éponine blushes furiously. Of course she mentions nothing of her discussion with Azelma, and she is grateful that Combeferre stuck up for her, but she still finds the whole situation incredibly surreal.

"Oh. Right." There is something in Marius's voice that Éponine cannot place. Then his eyes light up and she looks away because she knows that sparkle has nothing to do with her, and she has no desire to see it.

"Éponine!" He says, as if to prove her wrong. Her heart soars. She snaps around to look at him, grinning broadly, trembling ever so slightly and full of anticipation.

"Yes?" She says breathlessly.

"I found out her name."

Tears well in her eyes and she feels like she's just been kicked in the gut. "Oh. Great."

"So I was thinking you might be able to find out where she lives."

"Sure. Okay."

"Great!" He beams at her. " Thank you so much 'Ponine. You're a star."

She smiles back, but it takes a huge effort.

"So what is it?"

"Cosette." The very mention of her name leaves his eyes glazed over and a slack smile on his face.

"Right. I'll see what I can do." she deadpans. Marius pulls her into a tight hug, and Éponine chokes back a sob, barely able to return the gesture.

She leaves without another word, wholly unaware of the concerned gazes of _Les Amis_ that watch her depart.

* * *

Luckily for Marius, Éponine is particularly good at finding things out. It takes her less than 3 hours of digging and sweet talking the market stall owners before she is presented with an address.

She looks down at the scrawled location on the paper, and toys with the idea of hiding the information from Marius for a couple of days. But she cannot bring herself to do it. No matter how hurt and upset she is, Marius's happiness will ultimately come before her own, and it is with a heavy heart that she knocks on his front door to present it to him.

"'Ponine, you're my best friend, you know that? This means so much to me."

Éponine forces herself to smile. " It's fine Marius, I'm glad to see you happy."

_At least the second part of that isn't a lie. _She thinks.

Marius's face falls. "'Ponine, I have no idea where this is. D'you reckon you could show me the way?"

Éponine restrains herself from screaming at him, telling him to get there himself, that she's done enough, and simply nods; lips firmly pressed together, not trusting herself to speak.

For the second time that day, Marius hugs her tightly.

She agrees to meet him at midnight, outside his front door, and she spends the rest of the day stewing inwardly, wishing her life could be different.

* * *

Éponine leads Marius through the empty streets, keeping silently to the shadows. She is well practiced at not being seen; at melding into the background like a ghost. However Marius is not so subtle and she resists the urge to roll her eyes or groan in frustration every time he kicks a bin accidentally or trips up on loose gravel.

He follows as she creeps down a dimly lit alleyway, which opens out onto the corner of a large street.

Éponine gestures at the impressive building which stands opposite them, completely morosely. "This is it." She tries to sound enthusiastic, but the words carry a melancholy undertone that she cannot mask.

Marius turns his eyes to the top floor and the brightly lit window on the right hand side. He brushes past Éponine, who shivers at his touch, and she watches him pace towards the house, as though he has been bewitched.

" I'll wait here." She murmurs, too quiet for Marius to catch.

She is watching Marius clamber unceremoniously over the gate when she hears hushed voices from down the road. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up when she recognises the dull tones of her father. Éponine takes a quick glance at Marius who is now scooping up gravel from the driveway and throwing it at the window, before scurrying to the source of the noise.

Her father looks up as she approaches; if he is surprised to see her, his face does not betray it, and he talks at her brusquely.

"Good, you're here. Make sure you keep watch outside, we're going in."

Éponine stares at him blankly for a second before her eyes widen with alarm.

"You're going to rob this house?" She exclaims in disbelief.

"Why else would we be here you stupid child!"

"Why this house! There are plenty of bourgeoises on this road! Why this house?"

Éponine suddenly realises that her indignant attitude is unreasonable, as her father assumes she is here for the same reason as him, and she forces the emotion back.

"Because," her father snarls. "We have good reason to believe that this is the house of the man that adopted Cosette, and I believe he owes me a lot of money for the labour he has deprived me of all these years."

Éponine gasps despite herself. Cosette. The girl that had lived with them all those years ago. Of course they would end up being the same person. Just her luck.

_If Marius finds out your parents were behind this he'll never forgive you. _

She stands frozen to the spot, utterly torn between fear of her father and desperate longing for Marius's approval. She watches as her father gives Brujona hoist up to climb over the much higher gate surrounding the garden. Éponine glances back at Marius. Cosette has come to the window and they are talking animatedly. She can see her face alight with happiness and hear Marius's fervent voice. In that moment, she decides.

"If you don't leave now, I'll scream." The ferocity in her voice takes even Éponine by surprise and her father looks at her.

"You wouldn't dare, you insolent bitch."

Éponine takes a deep breath.

_Marius, you'd better be grateful for this._

"HELP! BURGLARS! HEL-"

The back of her father's hand cuts her off and the force of the blow sends her careering into the tarmac. He looms above her, eyes blazing.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? How dare you?"

Éponine responds by spitting in his face. He lets out a furious growl as he kicks her over onto her stomach She remains silent and grits her teeth, staring defiantly into her father's eyes before opening her mouth and letting loose an ear splitting screech.

Her father goes to hit her again but noises of movement from the house across the street, accompanied by lights flicking on in more than one building convince him to flee.

"You're going to regret this!" He hisses at her before turning and following the others.

Éponine watches from the floor as they scatter, a pained yet satisfied grimace on her face. This falters when she realises she no longer has anywhere to sleep tonight, and she starts listing places where it will be safe for her to curl up and spend the hours until the morning.

"Éponine!"

Marius's voice jolts her back to the present situation and she turns to see him running towards her. She pushes herself to her feet and he looks her up and down, concern darkening his face.

"Nina are you okay? I saw him hit you."

"I'm fine." Her response is sharper than she intends it to be, but she continues to look at him, unblinking.

"I can't thank you enough 'Ponine. That was very brave. Cosette has called the police and they'll be here in a few minutes."

Éponine blanches. The last thing she wants is the police questioning her. She's been involved in too many close calls and she could be looking at a very long time behind prison walls if they discover the extent to which she's involved in her parents' crimes, no matter how unwillingly.

"Marius, I have to go." She states.

"What? Why?" His grip tightens, unwilling to release her.

"Just let me go!" She raises her voice and wrenches away from him. Their eyes lock, and Éponine's heart speeds to double time. Then she flees, disappearing like a wisp of smoke.

Éponine can hear his shouts and pleas for her to turn around from the other end of the street, echoing in the silence.

She doesn't look back.

* * *

**A/N: I am really unsure about this chapter, so feedback is hugely appreciated.  
As you have probably guessed, in this AU, Eponine and Azelma are really close. The two of them have grown up in a really harsh environment, pretty much alone, and I just kind of feel that they would share a really close friendship, and Azelma is a little bit like Eponine's voice of reason.**

**However if you guys totally disagree and think it's crap, then I'll probably go back and rewrite the last couple of chapters. :P **

**Also I apologise for the lack of Enjolras in this chapter. He barely features in the next one either, but after that it actually becomes a bit more E/E centered. :P**

**Enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

Eponine opens her eyes sleepily, slowly unfurling herself from the tight ball in which she slept. Her limbs are stiff from the cold, and it takes several minutes before she can move. She winces as she stands; the pavement is far more unforgiving than her worn out mattress.

She looks around. The alley she collapsed in last night is empty, save for herself, and there is a thin mist clinging to the ground. Éponine turns her gaze skyward, and notes that it is only just past dawn.

She stretches, shaking the dregs of sleep from her small frame. At this time in the morning, there will be hardly anyone around, so she wanders out into the main street. It is empty, save for the occasional businessman walking briskly to the train station. It is eerily quiet and even Éponine's small breaths disturb the silence.

The chill of the morning air surrounds her, and she rubs her arms to try and dispel the goosebumps that have risen all the way up to her shoulders.  
The smell of freshly cooking bread wafts from a nearby bakery.

Éponine's stomach grumbles, and she pulls a cigarette from her back pocket, walking in the opposite direction of the tempting smell.

She can't go back. Not yet.

* * *

Three days later, Éponine is almost unrecognisable. Her hair is matted and her clothes are filthy, and there are more holes in her shoes than fabric.

She creeps tentatively out from the side street she had been sleeping in, and hurries towards the market. She can't put off her hunger any more; there's only so much that cigarettes can stave off.

When she reaches a stall selling pastries, she fishes some money out of her pocket, forming a silent apology to Azelma for spending their food budget, and buys herself a freshly baked croissant.

She sits on a set of stairs in front of a grand building, relaxing, if only for a moment. The hot dough warms her insides and she relishes every bite. Small noises of satisfaction spill from her lips and she does nothing to stop them. By the time she is finished, the sun has risen over the top of the buildings, and the air has lost the early morning bite.

She allows herself a few minutes to wander around the stalls, smiling contentedly.

A familiar but unwelcome voice sounds in her air, and her stomach drops.

"You need to come with me, _hirondelle._"

She freezes at the sound of Montparnasse's voice, wheeling round to find him looming over her.

The retort that forms on her lips is silenced; he grasps her arm and drags her round the corner to his waiting car, throwing her unceremoniously into the passenger seat.

She folds her arms defiantly and stares resolutely out of the window as he climbs into the driver's seat, but she can feel his gaze boring into the back of her neck, and she shifts uncomfortably.

"Your father is furious with you."

"I know." She replies bluntly.

"Where have you been?"

Éponine stays silent.

"Have you been seeing the students?"

"No."

"I suppose with your clothes looking like that, it was a stupid question in the first place. All the same, I don't want you speaking to them, or seeing them."

Silence.

"Éponine_, _are you listening to me?"

Silence.

"Listen to me very clearly," Montparnasse begins, voice close to a whisper but dripping with malice. "You belong to me, _hirondelle_. You are mine, and I will not have you fooling around with a bunch of mindless bourgeoisie. Do you understand?"

Silence.

He reaches over and digs his nails into her thigh threateningly. Éponine clenches her jaw to stop herself divulging her pain.

"Do. You. Understand?"

Éponine nods curtly, still not giving him the satisfaction of her voice. His nails cut deeper, breaking the skin.

"_Answer me._"His teeth are gritted together, barely maintaining his rage.

"Yes." Her voice is clipped; she is afraid if she says anything else she will cry out.  
He releases his hand and starts the car, not saying another word to her as they drive back to the bar.

Éponine holds back angry tears.

Again, her father's hand is the first thing she encounters as she walks inside. Angry words clash with the hands and she is aware of harsh shouts amid the punches and slaps.

"HOW DARE YOU! CLAQUESOUS AND BABET HAVE BEEN ARRESTED AND ARE DUE IN COURT NEXT WEEK, AND THE POLICE ARE WATCHING MY EVERY MOVE. YOU HAVE DISGRACED AND EMBARRASSED ME! YOU FILTHY, USELESS WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! I WILL NEVER TRUST YOU ON MY RAIDS AGAIN!"

Éponine lets out a sob as heavy objects fly at her head, whilst she cowers behind the bar. Tables are overturned and more than one chair is launched in her direction.

Suddenly, and to her complete surprise, the onslaught stops.

"Get out." Her father states.

Éponine stays where she is, shocked and breathing heavily.

"Get out!" He yells.

She does not wait for a third time, pushing open the door and walking away as fast as her legs will carry her. She is giddy with pain and adrenaline, while her sides smart with pain and blood trickles from a cut on her head and clots in her hair.

She doesn't notice the other person rounding the corner before she slams into him head on.

"Sorry," she mumbles, attempting to carry on up the street.

"Oh my god, Éponine."

She looks up, startled, into Combeferre's worried face.

"Where on earth have you been for the past three days? We've all been worried sick!"

"It's really nothing, I wouldn't bother yourself about it."

He looks at her skeptically. "Éponine you're bleeding. Quite badly, actually." He states, matter-of-factly.

"Seriously, don't worry about it." She makes to leave but Combeferre blocks her path.

"You're not getting away that easily. I don't know what the hell is going on, but you're a mess. Come back to the café and we'll get you cleaned up."

He leaves Éponine no choice as his strong hands guide her towards the café, despite her protests.

As he steers her in through the doors, the others look up, and upon seeing Éponine, break out into noisy chatter.

"Where have you been?"

"We've missed you Ep!"

"Oh my god, you're bleeding! Are you okay?"

Éponine grits her teeth and takes a seat, staring silently at the table in front of her. She is vaguely aware of a large mug of coffee that is placed in front of her by the landlady, but the shouts of the boys is grating against her pounding head and she wishes they'd just shut up and leave her alone.

"Can we please just drop the matter please? I'm fine, I've just been sleeping rough for a couple of nights. It's nothing I'm not used to, let's move on."

The chat around her fades out. She looks around. The boys are staring at her with faces that are a perfect blend of shock and horror. She almost laughs when the door opens and Montparnasse walks in. Éponine stiffens. He would have guessed this was where she'd end up, willingly or not. But she was unable to explain to him in front of everyone, and she would never dream of giving him the satisfaction of begging for his forgiveness.

The boys have evidently noticed the change in her body language, because the atmosphere in the café suddenly turns hostile.

"Relax boys, I'm not here to cause trouble. I've just come to have a chat with my darling Éponine. I am Montparnasse. You must be _Les Amis._"

Éponine glares at him, not in the mood to deal with his appearance. "Get out."

He chuckles menacingly. "I thought we'd already established that you are in no place to tell me anything, _hirondelle._"

Éponine's fists bunch on her lap, and she looks away, defeated.

"That's what I thought. Now," he wanders over to her, and grips her upper arm tightly, nails digging in to the skin. "Your father wants you home to open the bar by 6 o clock sharp. Is that understood?"

Éponine nods, still looking at the surface in front of her.

"Good." He releases his grip and kisses her on the cheek.

"If I find you in here again, you will regret it." He whispers, almost inaudibly. Éponine resists the urge to shudder.

"_Au revoir, hirondelle._"

He saunters out of the door, and it swings shut behind him before angry faces look at her and begin to talk over one another yet again.

"That's Monty? God he's such a slime ball."

"Please don't tell me you're seeing him Ep, he's a nasty piece of work."

"I really wanted to punch him."

"Is he the reason you're covered in bruises and bleeding because I swear to god-"

"Éponine if it's not safe for you at home, you know you can always crash with one of us if you need to."

The noise becomes too much and all of Éponine's rage spills over uncontrollably.

"JUST DROP IT!" Her shout shocks them all into silence and they look at her breathing heavily.

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. What I do with my life is none of your fucking business and I certainly don't need your offers of charity. You said absolutely nothing when I told you about Marius, why is this so different. Back the fuck off."

"But-"

"But nothing!" Her voice is getting louder. "I did not sign up for this shit when I said I'd be friends with you guys! Stay out of my god damned business!"

She storms out of the café, leaving the untouched cup of coffee to go cold, and leans angrily against the wall outside, pulling the cigarettes from her pocket and lighting one hastily. She takes a long drag, breathing heavily.

She is still fuming from the boys response, but the cigarette calms her down slightly and she is able to think straight again. She can't believe they'd be so damned protective of her. It's not as if they thought she'd been raised in the lap of luxury.

"Éponine." She is dragged out of her thoughts by Enjolras, who has stopped before entering the café and is looking at her, concerned.

"You look awful. Where have you been?" His gaze fall on the fresh cuts and bruises covering her body, and his face clouds with worry.

Éponine rolls her eyes. "Go on, lecture me about how I should call the police and get myself out because my life isn't safe." She snaps at him, not wanting to endure the same speech twice.

Enjolras's eyes soften momentarily, taking Éponine by surprise. Then his face returns to it's neutral mask as he speaks to her, voice levelled and calm.

"Éponine, you know full well that the whole point of the revolution is to enable people like you to make a better life for themselves. I cannot lie to you and say I am indifferent to your situation. I care a great deal. But you are a grown woman, and you can look after yourself. It is not up to me to tell you what you can and cannot do, nor is it my place to comment on your circumstances, whether I disapprove of them or not."

He enters the café and she stares after him in shock. She stands for a few seconds, unsure of how to process the leader's words, unnerved by how well he seems to understand her.

She finishes her cigarette with a shake of her head, and heads for home.

* * *

Her father doesn't even acknowledge her as she walks inside. Éponine takes that as a good sign and slinks upstairs quietly to clean herself. She sends a quick text to Marius first, after plugging her phone in.

**Hey Marius. Hope you're okay. Just wondered if you'd be free to hang after lectures tomorrow. x**

She steps into the shower, and her body explodes in pain as the hot water collides with the cuts all over her skin. She grits her teeth and forces herself to wash, scrubbing herself and de-tangling her hair.

Finally she acknowledges the pain pulsing in her ribs, and decides she has to do something about it. She steps out into the steam-filled bathroom, drying herself off and then pulls out the small first aid kit she keeps hidden behind the sink.

The wounds sting as she dabs them with antiseptic, and she hisses involuntarily.

"You really are an idiot, 'Ponine."

Azelma's words are tinged with sadness and Éponine turns to see her sister looking at her sympathetically from the doorway.

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I couldn't bear to have Marius think badly of me."

"Oh, Ep." Azelma kneels beside her and rubs her arm affectionately. "You didn't deserve this, but I repeat. You are an idiot."

"I noticed." The corners of Éponine's mouth twitch into a small smile as she meets her sister's gaze.

Azelma's eyes drop, then harden as she notices the finger shaped bruises under her touch.

"You really shouldn't let Monty treat you like this."

Éponine groans in frustration. "Eugh, not you too. I had enough of that off the boys earlier."

"When did you see the boys?"

"I bumped into to Combeferre on the way out of the bar and he practically pushed me all the way to the café. They exploded the moment I walked in, demanding to know where I'd been and how I ended up like this."

"Oh god. What did you say?" Azelma's tone implies she knows exactly what followed.

Éponine hesitates for a moment. "I yelled at them." She says, casually.

"Ep! Seriously?" Azelma is irritated, and Éponine cannot understand why.

"Zelma, they kept trying to tell me what to do. They offered me lodging and suggested I call the police. I'm not interested in their pity."

Azelma is quiet, and Éponine begins to bandage the cuts on her ribs.

"Did you stop to consider that they're genuinely concerned for your wellbeing?"

Éponine falters, then continues. "No." She admits with a sigh.

"Okay, you really are an idiot."  
Éponine lets her hands drop to her lap, all previous anger completely diminished. "You're right."

"I beg your pardon?" Azelma splutters. "Did that actually just happen? Can you repeat that to a camera? Will you sign a written declaration?"

Éponine gives her sister and half-hearted shove, and both of them laugh.

"You are right though Zelma. I probably did overreact. But my life is what it is, and I really don't want them butting in."

"Hey it's no good telling me that, you didn't yell at me."

"Oh shut up."

"I suggest if you don't want them to worry even more, you should apologise to them tomorrow morning. The university isn't far and given you no longer have any commitments during the day, you really don't have an excuse not to go. "

Éponine sighs. " Alright, fine. "

She slinks back to her bedroom, to check her phone. There is no reply from Marius, and Éponine's heart sinks a little further as she lies down on her bed to get some sleep before the bar opens.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Oh christ, I haven't updated in so long. I'm really sorry. I was horrifically busy at home and this chapter really didn't enjoy being written. I finished Chapter 7 before I finished this one. Enjoy!**

* * *

Enjolras scowls as he leaves his lecture. He had barely taken in a word his professor had said, instead his mind had been more focused on replaying what he had said to Éponine outside the Musain the day before.

"_I care a great deal._" Did he? Not even two weeks ago he hadn't even known her name and yet today all he can do is worry about her, and the atrocious state she had been outside the café.

He shakes his head, trying to focus. It is stressful enough trying to plan protests outside the hospital where Lamarque is being kept, he doesn't need any distractions, least of all from a girl he cannot begin to understand.

To his annoyance, Éponine is the very topic the rest of the boys are discussing as he approaches them in the library.

"I'm really worried about her."

"Jesus, same. Did you see the bruises on her arm?"

"That was nothing compared to the gash on her head!"

"You know she has a sister?"

"Really? Fuck. Has anyone thought of calling social services?"

"Is this really an appropriate topic of conversation considering what we're planning for this afternoon?" Enjolras's cutting tones make the group jump.

"Well, kind of, yes. We might not know her that well, but she's part of our group now and we need to look out for her. She's clearly not safe."

"Has it occurred to you that she might not want your help and it's not your place to interfere?"

His words are met with stunned silence and gaping mouths.

"Enj, what the fuck?" Grantaire looks at Enjolras angrily. "She's very obviously in danger, we have to do something!"

"I realise that," Enjolras says through gritted teeth. "But she's been fending for herself her entire life. It must have taken a lot for her to even consider being friends with us, and now suddenly you're crowding her and treating her like a porcelain doll. She's not going to appreciate or welcome what she deems as your pity. I agree that her current situation is dangerous and she needs to be removed from it, but we're going to have to convince her slowly and let her do it on her own terms. She's obviously never had anyone to look after her, and she certainly won't want a group of bourgeois students trying to do it now."

Silence yet again follows his words, but the atmosphere is more awestruck than hostile. Even Enjolras is slightly taken aback by what he said.

"Wow, Enj. That was pretty deep."

"This is why I'm in charge of the protests and not you."

The group laughs and the tension is broken; talk turning to the rally later that day.

Grantaire has been working on pickets and Combeferre on gathering more people to join them. Jehan and Feuilly have been handing out leaflets, detailing where everyone needs to meet.

Enjolras smiles. Today is their first proper protest, and it looks as though it might actually be successful.

* * *

When he reaches the start point for the march, he is completely overwhelmed - although inwardly - by the sheer number of people gathered to march on the hospital. Enjolras recognises some of the faces from around the University and the Musain, but largely, the crowd is unfamiliar, which gives him an extra push of encouragement.

Approximately 500 pairs of eyes look expectantly towards him, and he climbs onto a low rise wall to present himself to the group. His speech is short and full of passion, and as it ends, the crowd lets out a single cry of affirmation, before they begin to walk en masse towards the hospital. Chants pick up here and there, and Enjolras leads the group through the streets, breath slightly short from excitement. The fervour in the crowd was almost tangible, and Enjolras feeds off of it.

By the time they reach the hospital, the crowd has become a single being; chanting, shouting, cheering and breathing as one. Enjolras is the figurehead, a bright red beacon of passion, yelling words of encouragement and support; condemning the aristocracy with choice vocabulary and uniting the people under the flag of his revolution.

The congregation's voice grows in strength and belief until the harsh wails of police sirens shatter the illusion and it disintegrates into chaos. People scatter into the wind and within minutes the only proof that there had been any protest there at all is a couple of leaflets fluttering along the ground and a group of university students regaining their breath in a nearby alleyway.

"That. Was. Fucking. Incredible." Combeferre pants out between wheezes.

Enjolras grins, also breathing heavily.

"Seriously, Enj, I've never seen a crowd to riled up. You demand attention just by being. This... This could really be something."

Enjolras is slightly taken aback by his best friend's words. The philosopher had always been very reserved in his praise of Enjolras's ideals.

"Thank you."

Feuilly giggles. "I can't believe we actually pulled that off!"

Some of the others laugh as well, bent double from lack of oxygen.

Enjolras leans against the wall, taking a minute to process the gravitas of what had just happened.

"Ep? Is that you?"

Enjolras turns his head, looking down the alley at a small figure hesitating almost out of view. She looks up at the address, and takes a few tentative steps towards them.

"Ep! It is! Were you at the protest?" Courfeyrac asks enthusiastically, and makes to move towards her, but stops short.

Éponine nods silently, still lingering a few feet away. There is a pregnant pause before she speaks.

"Hey guys."

The silence stretches between them. The boys say nothing, treading on eggshells, avoiding saying anything that she might respond badly to.

"Listen, I just wanted to come and apologise for exploding at you guys yesterday. I get that you were worried about me and I totally freaked."

Éponine looks nervously at her feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Enjolras goes to speak but Combeferre steps into the empty space between the boys and her.

"Ep, it's fine. We..." He looks around. "We're sorry too. We shouldn't have butted in like that. You just scared us."

She smiles, and Enjolras notes that it for once, it is genuine. "Do you reckon it's safe to emerge yet?"

He nods.

"Shall we go for a drink then?"

"Okay, we're definitely keeping her." Grantaire's remark makes her giggle and the group wander away from the hospital back to the Musain.

Half an hour later, Éponine and Grantaire are on their 3rd beer each, and Enjolras has opened his book again. He ignores the laughs from around him and tries to concentrate on the text he's supposed be reading for his next lecture. Eventually, the conversation distracts him too much, and he puts the book away defeatedly. Éponine is laughing at one of Courfeyrac's jokes and swigging merrily from her bottle. The weight of the world crashes back down on her face in an instant as she notices something over Enjolras's shoulder. He turns to see Marius wandering in, a dreamy expression painted over his face.

"Oh god." Grantaire rolls his eyes, drinking deeply. "Just look at his face, someone's got him whipped!"

The boys jeer as Marius sits down. Enjolras eyes him coldly.

"Where the fuck were you earlier?"

Marius's expression sobers instantly. "Sorry, Enj. I was with Cosette and lost track of time."

He says it so matter-of-factly, as though he had simply been 5 minutes late to a lecture, that anger bubbles up in Enjolras's chest.

"Is this a joke to you Marius? It was our first serious protest today! You should have been there! I cannot bear your laissez faire attitude - this is all going to come to a head soon, most likely within the month, and you're off chasing some girl you only met 4 days ago!"

"Yes but we're in love!"

Enjolras scoffs. "Please Marius, you sound like a 13 year old girl."

"He's right Marius, you sound like a right ponce at the moment. You keep triggering my gag reflex." Courfeyrac remarks, smirking quietly.

"Éponine," Marius turns to her and Enjolras watches carefully. Since his appearance, Éponine has not uttered a word. She looks up at him, attempting to keep her broad smile subtle. "I want to write her a letter. Would you give me some help?"

The smile drops immediately and she regards him coldly. "Don't you have a phone?"

He blushes slightly. "It's more romantic."

Grantaire mimes shooting himself behind Marius and Enjolras is torn between throwing him a withering look and agreeing with his sentiment wholeheartedly.

"Fine, I'll help you write your damn letter."

Marius scrambles to his feet and moves to a table away from the rest of the group, and Éponine follows dejectedly. Enjolras realises he's staring after about 20 seconds, and turns his attention back to the boys.

"Let's discuss the protest today. Has anyone got anything to say on the proceedings?"

The group happily falls into conversation about the rally, picking apart the event and offering ways in which to improve it. Feuilly suggests having a longer procession, and Courfeyrac recommends allowing other people to speak when the march congregates. Enjolras nods solemnly, impressed with the ideas from his peers. The talk continues for another 15 minutes before Éponine flops back down on her chair, and Marius hurries away.

"Jesus Christ I need another drink!" She exclaims when the door swings shut.

Grantaire wordlessly hands her his bottle and she takes a grateful swig.

"When do you need to be back at the bar Éponine?"

She takes her phone from her pocket. "Not for another two hours."

Grantaire grins. "Then we shall have the pleasure of your company for another hour and 45 minutes."

Éponine smiles, taking another large drink from the bottle in her hand.

The time passes uneventfully, but it is filled with laughter. Enjolras watches as Éponine relaxes further and further, allowing herself to integrate more with the boys surrounding her, fitting in comfortably with the talk and chatter, and keeping toe to toe with Grantaire's alcohol consumption, which astounds Enjolras somewhat.

Eventually, she stands, looking disappointed. "I've got to make a move now guys."

"We're holding a planning meeting tomorrow, will you come? Your knowledge of the Parisian backstreets could prove invaulable."

Everyone, including Éponine, looks at Enjolras shocked. He _never _asked people to come to the planning meetings.

Éponine regains her composure first, and smiles. "Sure, I'll come."

Enjolras nods in gratitude, and returns to his book. He doesn't see Éponine glance back at him before she walks outside.

* * *

"Good, you're back. Get up to the spare room. You've been reserved." Her father turns away before Éponine even has time to blink. She takes a second to take in what he said, then locks away her emotions and walks up the stairs robotically. There is a young man leaning against the door frame, leering at her. She suppresses the urge to shiver and leads him inside.

The ordeal lasts no longer than twenty minutes, but Éponine fills every second with images of Marius. The man leaves, and she takes a few moments to compose herself.

Azelma gives her hand a subtle squeeze as she joins her behind the bar, and the two fall into their regular routine. Éponine begins to cheer up slightly, but all too soon her father is grabbing her wrist and dragging her back up the stairs with a man who looks old enough to be her grandfather. The door shuts behind her and Éponine barely has enough time to compose herself before the man is running his withered hands over her breasts. The smell of absinthe on his breath almost makes her retch and she takes a deep breath, leaning in to kiss him.

It is rough and quick. He buries his head in her shoulder and she stares at the ceiling, dreaming of a completely different world. He finishes and places a final slurred kiss on her collarbone before leaving the room, and Éponine crashes back into reality. The silence of the room presses in on her, and she dresses as fast as she can before retreating back to the bar. Her hands are shaking slightly, and Azelma places an almost indiscernable kiss against her temple. She lets out a rush of air and steadies herself, forcing down the storm of emotions rolling around in her gut.

Someone stumbles up to the counter and slams down a large wad of bills.

"I want her for an hour." He points at Éponine and her chest goes cold.

For the third time that night, Éponine's mind floats to Marius. She thinks of his wonderful smell; the freckles splashed across his cheeks like someone flicked a paintbrush at his face. She fills her head with memories of his smile and his low, concerned voice. She thrusts her hips mechanically and imagines Marius positioned above her.

When she is left alone again, it takes her longer to recover before she feels able to return downstairs.

She makes it 4 steps out of the door before a hungry and inebriated pair of lips capture her own, and rough hands drag her back to the still open door. They push her down onto the bed, pulling her clothes off haphazardly. Éponine tries desperately to bring Marius back to the forefront of her mind, but the coarse hands running over her bare hands render it impossible after so many times already. The image of Grantaire and Combeferre laughing heartily in the Musain earlier that day swims to the front of her mind and she clings desperately to the memory whilst harsh lips graze the skin of her thigh. The sharp bite of teeth shatter the illusion, and a single tear rolls down her cheek. She looks up at the ceiling and counts the seconds until the man is done with her, and casts her aside like a used tissue.

As she emerges from the room, her father grabs her by the hair and yanks her down the corridor to her bedroom. His fist connects with her face the moment they are inside.

"How _dare _you!" I have a dissatisfied customer who is refusing to pay up because apparently you _cried_? I am disgusted by you. You are a pathetic child and you have proved yourself to be completely worthless to me. You're a fucking whiny whore who should suck up and take it because this is all you're good for after your little stunt last week!" He slaps her across the face as she stares defiantly up at him. "And wipe that look off of your face."

He turns on his heel, stalks back down the corridor and disappears downstairs. Azelma appears in the doorway as Éponine decides exactly what she has to do.

"'Zelma, I can't stay here tonight. Not now, not after four-"

Azelma cuts her off, holding up her hand. "Go. I'll cover for you. Be safe."

The two sisters embrace briefly before Éponine flees the establishment. There is only one thought in her head as her feet smack against the pavement and her heart pounds in her ears.

_Get to Marius._


End file.
